


Daydream

by icaruslaughed



Series: Suptober20 [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Light Angst, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, supernatural season 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:21:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26852860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icaruslaughed/pseuds/icaruslaughed
Summary: My submission for day 5 of suptober. and, because i’m basic and haven’t done it *yet*, it’s set in The Fanfiction Gap
Series: Suptober20 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955047
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Daydream

“ _ The part of you that overreacted, that cares so much? That’s what makes you special. _ ” Nora’s words echo in his ears as he tries to process what, exactly, just happened. More so, how he and Dean got away with it. “ _ That’s what makes you special. _ ” Special, sure. In Castiel’s experience, special has come to mean different, odd, someone who doesn’t quite fit the mold. It’s not a compliment, he doesn’t think. Especially considering  _ special _ killed thousands of angels,  _ special _ set Leviathan loose on Earth,  _ special _ cast every angel out of Heaven in his naivete. How can anything special be good if that’s all it’s ever caused?

“Where to, Cas?” Dean asks him. He doesn’t dignify it with an answer. He doesn’t even know if he can. There is no dignity in who or what he is now, not compared to who he was. So he slides into the passenger seat of the Impala, slamming the door behind him so hard he sees Dean flinch and thinks about apologising. No. He can’t. “Alright then. Let’s get you cleaned up,” Dean finally says, accepting his silence. He nods.

Baby roars to life with a turn of the keys in her ignition, headlights illuminating the drive to some shitty motel outside of town. Before the Fall, he never understood the concept of sleep and therefore why the Winchesters stayed in such poor conditions; didn’t humans need to be comfortable to sleep? Now though, he gets that it’s just another place to rest their heads.  _ Living _ is so draining that sleep comes naturally so long as you have a halfway decent place to rest your head. He nearly does fall asleep, so eager to collapse into the passenger side window and rest for days, but Dean taps his shoulder when they arrive.

“You doze off on me?” he whispers.

“No, Dean, I’m awake.” The sharpness of his voice startles him, deafening in the quiet of the car. Suddenly the space between them is too small, too much tension hanging between them. He practically shoves open the door and stalks to the motel room before realising he has no idea which room Dean’s staying in. Dean grabs his duffel bag from the trunk and unlocks a door a few rooms away from the one Castiel believed to be his. Cas ducks his head in embarrassment, locking the door and deadbolt behind him and immediately collapsing on the bed. He lands funny, though, and his arm finds itself trapped under his chest, sending a bolt of pain through his wrist. He must make some sort of noise because the next thing he knows, Dean is kneeling on the floor next to him, a concerned look on his face.

“Here, let me see,” he murmurs, holding out a palm.

It would be unwise to refuse. His palm stings, his wrist is slowly going numb, but there’s enough sensation left for it to  _ hurt _ . Dean could help fix that, as he is experienced in human first aid. More than that, Dean  _ wants _ to help fix it, so Cas should let him. But some part of him, some human, rebellious part, is still angry with Dean for kicking him out. He lets that part take control because it’s easier than using rational thought. “No.”

Dean’s face crumples and he shifts backward, distancing himself from Cas. “Look, man, I’m sorry, I really am,” he begins, “I wish I could explain why it has to be like this, I do, but I can’t. But I  _ can _ try to make it up to you. If you’ll let me.” He looks up, guilt marring his features, a desperate plea in his eyes. Cas slowly extends his injured arm and Dean gingerly wraps his fingers around it, eliciting a wince. “Shit, sorry, Cas.”

“It’s fine, Dean,” he says, hoping he realizes it means more than just his arm. He forgives Dean, mostly anyway. He’s still hurt by what happened, that he had been abandoned at a time when he needed his best friend the most, but he also knows he probably had a good reason for what he did. “It’s all so new to me. Of course, I’ve been injured as an angel and I’ve already died a few times, but humanity, it’s… There’s so much  _ more _ to it than I could have ever imagined. I feel more, more emotions, yes, but I see more, if only because I see it in a different light. A new perspective, I suppose. I’ll never get used to it.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot to take in, I guess.” Dean stands and rifles through his duffel bag, pulling out a small kit of medical supplies and tossing it on the bed. “Looks like Ephraim sprained your wrist, but that doesn’t normally take too long to heal. Few weeks at most.” A few weeks? He doesn’t have the time to let it heal for a few weeks; he needs to get back to work and Nora at the Gas-N-Sip. He can’t work with a sprained wrist, and he’s got nowhere else to go. He doesn’t have a few weeks. “Oh,” is all he says. 

His mind wanders to the bunker and his brief stay there as Dean patches up his hand. It may have smelled a little odd, like old man and sawdust, but it was a home, or the closest thing any of them ever had to one. When he spoke with the brothers about how he marveled at the abundance of food or the water pressure in the shower, he really did mean it. Humanity fascinated him in that he could go from sleeping on the streets to dead to staying in the world’s safest place all within the span of 24 hours. Less, even. Granted, that’s not exactly the typical human experience, but when has anything in his life ever been normal? As an angel, he’d always been a little different, a little more rebellious and independent; it’s what got him promoted. Then he rescued the Righteous Man from Hell and his world turned upside down. He was told to stop the raising of Lucifer, then to stand down and let it happen. And he refused. He ripped up fate and destiny and found himself in the midst of a civil war.

It was simply chaos from then on, tragedy after tragedy until he found himself on the streets of some city in America, utterly human and wet and cold and hungry and small and pathetic and so, so tired. So when he finally made it to the bunker, it nearly rivaled Heaven in how comforted it made him feel. For the first time in years, perhaps even his entire life, he had a safe place to simply exist without worrying about who he was or who he was meant to be, one stocked with food and a place to sleep and his closest friends. He finally belonged, only to have it snatched away as if it were merely a daydream.

Speaking of daydreaming, that must have been exactly what Castiel was doing, since by the time he pulls himself out of his thoughts, Dean finishes wrapping the final bandage around his palm. “Ain’t much, but it’ll do,” he smiles hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck as he always does when he’s nervous. “There’s only one bed.”

“Yes, Dean, I’ve noticed. I can sleep on the floor if you want; I’m used to it by now.” Dean flinches before Cas can even process how deep of a jab those words really are.

“Cas I’m sorry- Here, you can have the bed, it’s fine. You need it more anyway.”

“Dean, I don’t mind sharing.”

“Really? I, uh, it’s...yeah me neither.”

“Good.” With that, Cas toes his shoes off and slumps against the headrest. Dean walks around the bed, shedding his shoes, jacket, and shirt before sitting on the edge of the bed and fumbling with his belt buckle. Cas can’t help but appreciate the view. Interesting. While he’s always felt some sort of connection with Dean, this...attraction...is new. And though he’d be lying if he said he hated it, he’d never dream of acting on it. He can’t afford to lose that, too.

So he pretends he doesn’t see the way Dean’s eyes flicker when he sheds his shirt and pants and crawls under the covers. He doesn’t look when Dean does the same. He might scoot slightly closer than is strictly necessary, but then again, so does Dean. Neither of them say anything, though. He knows what happens when you get close to either of them, and it’s not pretty. He’s scared of that happening to Dean again. He’s even more terrified they’ll snap back to reality and this will all be just like the bunker: some daydream that only exists to be taken away.


End file.
